


Threadbare (But I'm Still Holding On)

by SpookyBibi



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Car Accident, Coma, Happy Ending, Kurtbastian friendship, Kurtofsky Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/pseuds/SpookyBibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the blink of an eye, Sebastian's life fell apart. Now Dave lies in a coma and Sebastian should trust that he'll wake up. But belief, faith, these are concepts he's not used to grasp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threadbare (But I'm Still Holding On)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fuckinglittlesparklingshit on Tumblr. She wanted a Smythofsky fic with Dave in a coma, here it is! I hope she enjoys it, and that you do too!

“It’s so stupid, Dave. I told you a million times to get rid of these shoes. They’re ugly, old, they don’t fit with anything…”

Sebastian’s voice thins out and breaks and his shoulders slump as well. He’s but a crumpled mess on a plastic chair, holding on to Dave’s limp hand and it takes several deep breaths for him to continue talking. Even if no one is listening, he needs to say these things, if only to fill the silence with something else besides the beeping of machines and the chatter of the nurses in the hallway.

“I knew they would fall apart on you, make you look ridiculous,” he whispers. His index curls into Dave’s palm, a small caress, all he can touch safely. The back of Dave’s hand is busy with medical tape and a catheter sticking out.

“I just wish… I just wish that’s all that happened.  Just you losing one in the hallway and us laughing about it.”

…

_“Twenty four years old, hit and run, this guy over there was with him.” The paramedic turns away after the few briefs words thrown to the cop and gets into the back of the ambulance. “We’re good, go!” he yells, pulling the door closed._

_The officer approaches Sebastian with caution, steps slow and measured. “Son?” No reaction, he gets closer, kneels and rests a hand on Sebastian’ stiff arm. “Son, can you tell me what happened?”_

_The seconds flow and there is no response, just a man sitting silently on the cold and dirty curb of the sidewalk. Sebastian’s eyes never leave the road, the icy patch still covered by tire tracks and emergency flares._

_“I told him to wear other shoes,” Sebastian whispers, face blank. “Fucking sneakers, so worn out. Relics.”_

_The policeman looks down and notices the torn pieces in Sebastian’s hands. “These?” he asks, and moves to take them but Sebastian closes up and clutches them, his grip desperately tight. He nods, takes his hands away. “What happened?” he asks again. “I need to know, for the report, for your friend. Just something to start, you can come by the station later for the rest, if it’s easier.”_

_“The sole came off. Just like that, and he tripped,” Sebastian says in a blank voice, with a weak shrug. “He didn’t even fall, he just paused, for a second.” He draws a shaky breath and his hands start twisting the useless shoe. “One second he’s running to cross the street on time and the next he’s on the ground.”_

_“Did you see the car?”_

_Sebastian shakes his head. “Some kind of dark sedan,” he chokes out. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know I mean he was on the ground and it sped off and I was…” His eyes shine with unshed tears._

_“Hey, it’s okay,” the officer says out of habit, but the tone is sincere, so is his grip on Sebastian’s shoulder. He gets up and searches his pockets for a card, hands a crumpled one to Sebastian. “Here. I’ll do what I can with the security cameras and you call me when… When you can.”_

….

It’s been a week. He’s been to the station, twice, told the whole incident to two different teams of detectives in as much detail as he could recall. The investigation is still ongoing. That’s all he gets in return.

“I kept them, you know,” Sebastian says after a pause. “They’re shredded, and dirtier than ever, but I figured you’d want to be the one to throw them out.”

He bites his lip and when his mouth opens again it’s for a weird, croaked out chuckle. “Please throw them out Dave. Please.”

…

“Sebastian?” Kurt’s voice is a pale imitation of its usual confident tone. He sounds like a frightened child. “You should go home. For a few hours at least. Take a shower, eat a real meal, sleep in a bed.”

“Could you go, Kurt? Leave his side? If it was Adam lying in a hospital bed, could you go home?”

Sebastian doesn’t even deign to look his way. Like with most conversations with Kurt, he knows he’s right.

“No,” Kurt admits after a second.

He stops bothering him after that, brings him herbal tea instead of coffee but that’s it. He stays for a long while during each visit, as many hours as he can spare from his job and Adam.

Sebastian isn’t sure how he feels about it. On one hand, it’s a friend of Dave’s, of his sometimes, someone who wants to help. It’s also someone who reminds him that the world is still going on, without him, without Dave. It shouldn’t. Life stopped for Sebastian the moment that car hit Dave.

The firm kept calling him, until he angrily replied that he would come back whenever he wanted and that they could just give his cases to Howell, and hung up. They didn’t send him a pink slip, he takes it he’s not fired, yet. Good to know, but useless at the moment.

“They let you stay without problem?” Kurt asks him one random day (could be a Tuesday, he’s not sure).

“Yeah,” and his hand moves from Dave’s arm to his head, pushing back the hair that keeps falling on his forehead. It’s getting long, it’s not a good look on him.

“We have an arrangement.”

….

_“David Karofsky?”_

_Paul springs out of his seat, Sebastian a couple of beats behind him. Dave’s father has been the pacing, panicked and worried parent for the past four hours but Sebastian has yet to get out of his stunned state._

_“Yes, I’m his father, how is he? Can we see him?”_

_The doctor glances up from the chart he’s holding and frowns. “He’s in recovery, no, you can’t see him yet. Can we go someplace and talk?” he adds, his eyes trailing briefly on Sebastian. “Family only.”_

_“This is his fiancé,” Paul explains quickly and brings Sebastian closer with an arm around his shoulders._

_The doctor sighs and closes the file. “I’m sorry, but I can’t, he’s not…”_

_Paul waves him off. “Look, whatever you tell me I’ll tell him later anyway. I’ll sign a release for him, whatever you need but he gets the same access that I do. I don’t care about your rules and regulations, he’s his fiancé, you treat him like he’s family. Because he is Dave’s family, just like I am.”_

_Sebastian had managed to stop the tears around fifteen minutes ago but they well up again when he hears Paul’s decided speech._

_The doctor looks at them, staying silent for so long that it makes Sebastian take his eyes off the floor. That seems to be the final straw._

_“Fine,” he sighs, and reopens the file, flicking through it. “Overall the outlook is positive. We stopped the internal bleeding and we set the dislocated shoulder. Cuts and bruises, none too severe. His right ankle is broken but should heal nicely.” He glances up, a minuscule pause. “The biggest concern remains the impact sustained by his head. The swelling has gone down, but not as much as we would have liked. He’s slipped into a coma and it’s…”_

_“It’s what?” Sebastian asks, a cry he lets out. The pause, at that point of the doctor’s speech, is too frightening to be endured. “It’s wha?,” he repeats, a much more pleading request._

_“It’s uncertain. I can’t say when he’ll wake up.”_

_Sebastian waits but nothing is added. He doesn’t register falling into the chair again and into Paul’s embrace, or the doctor murmuring sympathetic banalities. All he hears are his choked, half-contained sobs, and the one word he clings to._

_When. **When** he’ll wake up._

…

“It’s not…. I can’t do this Dave. You’re the one with the hope, and the faith. The one who looks at the possibilities with a smile and all that ambition that was tucked away before. I... I can’t believe like you do. But I can’t give up either.”

In the dark of the night, cut only by the hollow light of the machines and the fluorescent light of the hallway, the façade shows its cracks.

Sebastian rests his forehead on the edge of the bed. “I… I need you to help me Dave. Help me, and wake up.”

…

_“You really think this is a good idea?” The little black box is twisted and turned and examined and Sebastian wears a more worried than awed expression as he stares at it._

_Dave gets up and dusts up his knee, chuckles awkwardly._

_“Is that a yes? Cause if it is, Seb you need to work on your romantic skills, I mean I wasn’t expecting swooning but a smile, maybe?”_

_Dave’s tone is so fond it sends stupid butterflies in Sebastian’s stomach and makes him smile, as if on cue. Not his sneer, no. The wide grin that brightens up his face. His Dave smile._

_“There,” Sebastian huffs, lips still curved upward. “It’s a yes. Never mind.” With one swift pull on his collar he brings Dave to him, close enough for a teasing kiss, soon moving to nip at his neck. A distraction._

_“You still think you can’t do this, right? Really settle down with me. That’s what you meant by not a good idea.”_

_Sebastian keeps his face safely hidden in Dave’s shoulder, keeps still for a second. “You know my track record. I could be right.”_

_“You could be wrong too. I believe you are, on this at least. I believe in you. Most of all I believe in us.”_

_Foolish Dave. But Sebastian nods anyway._

_“I love you, you know.”_

_“Of course I know. And I love you too, Sebastian.”_

…

It’s late, much later than any reasonable visiting hours, yet he’s still at Dave’s side. The rules don’t apply to Sebastian Smythe, except this time he’s earned that privilege, instead of being handed it for no reason. After so much time, every nurse has learned to let Sebastian come and go as he please. He’s never a hindrance, and his pain is too real to be denied whatever can alleviate it. So they let him in Dave’s room, anytime, because that’s all he asks for.

“It’s been 4 months, Dave. No one knows what to do anymore, what to try. Maybe they’re right. Maybe you're not meant to wake up.”

He stares at Dave’s face. A face that has healed, that no longer bears trace of the scratches and bruises. But it’s not Dave’s face either, it has none of his spirit showing. He keeps waiting for his eyes to open, for his mouth to stretch into that shy smile he fell in love with. Not tonight, like every other night.

Maybe it’s time he faces reality.

“They’ve talked to your dad. He’s talked to me.” That was one conversation with the doctors he couldn’t be a part of. Paul was Dave’s legal guardian according to the law. He still got the news from Paul, so told by a much more compassionate person.

Sebastian looks at the floor, the tiles he’s memorized over time. He can’t say it to Dave’s face.

“They say your brain activity isn’t improving. That... That we need to start thinking about letting you go.”

He shudders at the thought and his hand grasps the thin sheets. Between what he says and what he can do, there is a world.

“I don’t know what to say to your dad. They want him to sign the papers to cut off your life support. How am I supposed to tell him that he can’t do it, that you’ll wake up soon, when there’s no sign that it’s true? He wants to believe it, but he’s...”

His fingers hitch forward, enough to brush against Dave’s. “He’s so worn out Dave,” he murmurs. He threads his fingers with Dave’s, finds no relief in the cold touch. “I don’t know Dave. I don’t know if he can go on like this for much longer.”

He keeps quiet about himself, but Dave knows anyway. Sebastian can hold on, as long as it takes. And if it’s not in his control, if he’s forced to let go, he’ll hold to the memory. It will have to be enough.

“I want to believe, Dave. You taught me that I should always hope and believe. But it’s not my choice anymore. I’m sorry.”

He reclaims Dave’s hand, threads his fingers with Dave’s unresponsive ones and waits. For what? A sign? He has never squeezed back, never in months, and it’s the same this time. Why would it be different tonight? Because of what Sebastian just said? No, they are just words, words that Dave might not even be hearing anyway.

“Still, I wish…” Sebastian sighs and leans forward to brush his lips against Dave’s knuckles. He stays there, pensive.

“Remember Kurt’s birthday? When we ended up watching Les Miserables because _someone_ said he should get to pick the movie? I try to think that what you said there still holds. In spite of everything and everyone.”

…

_“Now she’s about to die and sings about it. Fuck this so depressing…” Sebastian whines. And as far as movie picks for a festive day, he’s right. It’s a minor consolation that doesn’t erase his frown. Not even sinking into the plush sofa (it’s a horrible piece of furniture, faithful to Adam and Kurt’s bohemian style, but he has to admit its comfort is incomparable) brings a smile on his face._

_Dave manages to do it, by sneaking a teasing hand around his waist and pulling him flush against him. Always the bear, in appearance and manners... Sebastian doesn’t really mind and might even admit that he likes it._

_“Kurt loves it, humor him, please.”_

_“I will, for you,” Sebastian specifies, sending his fakest smile in Kurt’s direction in response to the questioning stare. “It might be his birthday but even that wouldn’t make me show up and behave, if he wasn’t your best friend.”_

_With a chuckle and an approving nod, Dave settles more comfortably, swinging his legs on the ottoman. “I know. I keep wishing you two would get along better but this cold tolerance is all I’m gonna get.”_

_“It’s more than I ever imagined giving to this guy.”_

_“ **This guy** was the only one who stood by me after… You know. The only one besides you.”_

_Sebastian lifts his head and brushes his lips on Dave’s cheek and his hand finds its way to Dave’s thigh. An automatism, whenever Dave mentions that time Sebastian would kiss him or touch him. Anything to lessen the hurt and remind him that he’s still here with him._

_“I know, I’m sorry. I know.”_

_“It’s okay,” Dave replies with a neutral sigh._

_That makes it worse. Sebastian knows that Dave means it, that he doesn’t hold any grudges for the past, or for any of Seb’s shortcomings. He doesn’t even bring up that time to make Seb feel guilty or to fish for sympathy. He’s just…_

_“Forgiving.”_

_Seb looks up, brows furrowed. That was a weird, like-minded moment almost too well timed to be real._

_Dave’s chin juts towards the screen, bringing Sebastian’s attention back to the movie. “I like that line. Sure it’s not meant to be uplifting but I didn’t have to dream it. God was forgiving, in my case,” Dave says softly._

_“So I guess I am the young and unafraid one, with the songs unsung , the wine untasted and shit. Although I always finish my drinks.” He keeps up the falsely light tone, along with the caress on Dave’s leg. Because it’s needed, when they’re discussing that time._

_“Our dreams aren’t wasted though,” Dave continues. “They’re just beginning to come true.”_

_The conversation stops there, silenced by a stare Kurt sends all the way from the depths of Adam’s arms._

_Seb retorts with an eyeroll that has an impressive range and curls closer to his boyfriend. It’s warm there, just like the last words Dave said. Epic drama can continue on the TV, he’s not letting it affect him._

...

“Then a part of me thinks… Maybe... Maybe there really are dreams that cannot be. Like you and me, living the years together.”

He swallows back a sob. They did have plans to do that. Wedding in a year, then… They joked around, saying they could adopt five kids or more once they would be back from their honeymoon. Sebastian saying he would like a bunch of mini Warblers, Dave insisting on forming his own private hockey team.

Just jokes, but not really. Sometimes they would research the process for adoption or surrogates. Casually.

He still has the folder on his computer.

But Dave has been lying in this bed for weeks and all those dreams are fading, fast. Like Dave. He can’t keep them alive by himself. They’re _theirs_.

“Maybe this is a storm you cannot weather. Maybe I should accept that.”

It kills him to say it but it’s true.

Yet he keeps his vigil, his hand never lets go of Dave’s. The memories play out in his head, over and over again, and one moment sticks out, comes back more often. Just a small conversation they had that night, once they left Adam’s loft.

…

_“You know, if you change the tense from past to present, it can become a very hopeful song. Like… **I have a dream this life can be, so different from this hell I’ve been living**. It’s pretty much how I’ve been feeling lately.”_

_Sebastian snorts. “Sure, living with me is the worst.”_

_“That’s not what I mean, dumbass. I mean that I had bad times, and I didn’t think it could change. I was like Fantine, certain it was over. But it wasn’t. Even when I was hopeless, on suicide watch,” and his voice wobbles on that part, “it got better.”_

_Sebastian shivers and walks a little closer to his boyfriend. It sounds like Dave expects an answer._

_“It did,” Sebastian says softly._

_“Yeah. So I keep thinking that’s how I should see life in general. When it’s the worst, well it’s tomorrow’s past. It can always become the past, it can always pass.”_

…

Dave didn’t wake up the next day. Not the days after that either.

Sebastian fought teeth and nails to delay the inevitable, fought to rally Dave’s father to his opinion. Fought to ignore the voice in his head saying it was doing more harm than good to them both.

Maybe it was. They grew weary and tired and weak, and the weeks dragged on. By any reasonable means they should give up. _Sebastian_ should give up.

But the thread of hope, the tenuous strand of faith that Dave has somewhat sewed into Sebastian’s heart is more resilient and stronger than it looks. It holds him up and keeps him together.

It’s frayed at times, worn out and threatening to snap. But it never does.

Until one Friday night. When Sebastian wakes up from half a nap taken with his head on David’s lap and looks up as he stretches, it comes undone. Sebastian comes undone and flops back on the bed, the breath knocked out of him and his hands barely cushioning his fall.

Dave is staring at him. Eyes wide open, bleary but open. Awake.

By some miracle his legs support him again and he gets up, shakily reaching for Dave’s face. “Da-Dave?” he croaks out. His thumb grazes the stubble on Dave’s cheek, over and over again and he stares, transfixed by how the gesture makes Dave’s eyes flutter. “Can you… You’re awake.”

One blink.

That’s enough a yes for Sebastian and he bursts into relieved tears. He can’t bother to hold them back, contain himself. He’s only able to kiss Dave over and over again, frantically, messily.

He believed and he was right. Dave was right. It can always pass. So what if he has no resolve or strength left? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to hold on anymore.


End file.
